


Heatwave

by morganoconner



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Foursome, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-16
Updated: 2010-07-16
Packaged: 2017-10-18 06:40:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/pseuds/morganoconner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which angels are not saints, and Sam and Dean should stop being so tempting...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heatwave

It’s gotta be a hundred degrees easy, and the humidity is off the charts. It’s November, but you’d never know it, and Dean flops back on the bed, staring up at the slowly spinning ceiling fan that isn’t doing a damn thing against the brutal heat. He’s stripped down to his boxers, and Sam isn’t much better on the next bed over, wearing a pair of low-slung gym shorts he’d dug out from the bottom of his bag.

Sam had been doing research on the current hunt, but it’s too hot to think, and _way_ too hot to be running the laptop. So instead, they lie on their beds, sweating and bored and unwilling to move.

“This sucks,” Sam grumbles.

It does, but answering is just too much effort, so Dean instead makes a grunting sound that could be taken as an agreement, and closes his eyes, hoping that if he takes a nap, it’ll be cooler when he wakes up.

The sound of wingbeats cuts into the hazy fog he’s started sinking in to, but that’s okay because for a split second, there’s something like a breeze as well. He opens his eyes to Gabriel’s amber gaze and tilted head.

“Well now, this is a pretty picture, don’t you think bro?” the archangel says, and Dean looks over, sees Castiel standing across the room, stock-still and with wide eyes that seem darker than normal as they flick back and forth between Dean and Sam.

He swallows, suddenly very conscious of his barely clothed state. The room seems much warmer as Gabriel licks his lips, his eyes raking over Dean’s body. Dean goes to sit up, but Gabriel is faster, and the archangel pounces, straddling Dean’s hip and shoving him back down with a hand pressed to Dean’s chest.

 _Oh, hell_ , Dean thinks as his eyes roll back and his head hits the pillow. Gabriel is _radiating_ heat, but God, it doesn’t even matter, because this heat is so different from the uncomfortable, suffocating warmth of the motel room.

There’s a strange meeping sound from the next bed, and Dean looks over breathlessly, sees his brother’s eyes blown wide as Castiel takes a step forward. From above him, Gabriel grins and snaps his fingers…

…and suddenly there’s only one bed, one very large bed. And there are four people on it, and Dean doesn’t get a chance to protest, or make any sort of sound at all, because suddenly Gabriel is _kissing_ him. Gabriel is kissing him, and Castiel is crawling up the bed toward Sam even while one of his hands trails over Dean’s side, and _what the fuck_ …

“You don’t know,” Gabriel growls against his mouth. “You don’t know how _long_ , and then you’re both just _there_ , looking like _that_ , and what did you expect, Winchester? We’re angels, not saints.”

Castiel is gazing down at Sam with something like reverence, and Sam seems to have lost all ability to speak as his eyes dart between the two archangels and then finally to Dean.

Dean holds his gaze, is suddenly too aware of everything about this moment. The dust motes drifting lazily in the air, the whirr of the fan spinning lazily overhead, the strange, familiar electricity from the angels who are so close, the trickle of sweat running down his neck…

And the fierce, helpless _want_ that he thinks they’ve _all_ been fighting for too damn long.

“Well then,” he says, cocky grin sliding firmly in place. “I’m thinking the angels in the room are a little too overdressed. C’mon guys, we’re in the middle of a heatwave here.”

He can’t miss the relief that slides into his brother’s eyes, or the laugh that reverberates through him from where Gabriel is suddenly attached to his neck, or that it’s _Castiel_ who snaps his fingers with a sparkle in his eye.

He can’t miss the sudden slide of skin against skin, or the breathless sounds they all begin to make, or the sweat that just serves to make everything better… _hotter_.

And later, when they’re all blissed out and sprawled across the really friggin’ _gigantic_ bed, he can’t miss the way the archangels glance at each other and suddenly the room is much cooler…

…cold enough, in fact, to warrant the cuddles they all seem to want to indulge in.


End file.
